


CONQUERED.

by D0MSMENU



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Bang Chan is a Mess, Blood and Injury, Dom/sub, Dominant Han Jisung, Dominant Hwang Hyunjin, Dominant Kim Seungmin, Dominant Lee Felix, Dominant Lee Minho, Dominant Seo Changbin, Dominant Yang Jeongin, Eventual Smut, Jeongchan centric, M/M, Mild Gore, Nobody Is Good At Feelings Here, Power Dynamics, Smut, Submissive Bang Chan, Yang Jeongin | I.N is Whipped, but pretty much everyone gets a taste of chan, hyunjin acts like a verse tho since there aint a dom bone in his body, inspired by the mama performance lowkey but also chan’s duality, warlord chan gets dick in the ass and other things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D0MSMENU/pseuds/D0MSMENU
Summary: Conquered.Chan knows the word all too well. Though, he has never felt it. Normally, he is inflicting it onto various enemies and their hometowns. But he has never once been through the process of being conquered. He has some sort of pride for how indomitable he is. How he hasn’t once lost a battle of his yet, and remains so steadfast and impregnable. Despite his reputation and incessant need for war, which is always waiting at his doorstep, he is—quite implicitly—untouchable.Unconquerable.Well, that was until Chan met the King.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Everyone, Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han, Bang Chan/Hwang Hyunjin, Bang Chan/Kim Seungmin, Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Seo Changbin, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	CONQUERED.

Conquered.

Chan knows the word all too well. Though, he has never felt it. Normally, he is inflicting it onto various enemies and their hometowns. But he has never once been through the process of being conquered. He has some sort of pride for how indomitable he is. How he hasn’t once lost a battle of his yet, and remains so steadfast and impregnable. Despite his reputation and incessant need for war, which is always waiting at his doorstep, he is—quite implicitly—untouchable.

Unconquerable.

Well, that was until Chan met the King.

The night casted a thick, black blanket over the atmosphere, the only light coming from the yellow moon which hid behind gray clouds. _Pitter-patter_ echoed throughout the empty passage to the docks where the sound of water drifting, and ships rocking side to side, filled the silence. Rain tapped against any solid surface, drowning out the noise of dozens of men sneaking by.

A single individual stood behind, for once not being at the very front of all the action. There was no action in the first place. Not yet, anyway. Shades of scarlet covered him, denoting the blood he has brought upon countless enemies. He wore metal armor, shining like silver from the moonlight, and his arms were bare—save from his thick gloves. The most striking detail of his was a scar that ran down from his forehead, across his eye, to his cheek. Instead of being ashamed, it was embroidered with gold; emphasizing it to either symbolize power or fear, both possibly.

Remaining there behind the bushes, he watched as his men approached one of the ships. Oddly enough, there were no guards standing by. A suspicious feeling settled at the pit of his stomach, a droplet of rain running down the side of his face as he contemplated the possibility of this being a trap. It would be close to impossible for it to be since his presence here with his soldiers was unannounced and very much unexpected. Though, he knew a leader like the King would think before placing guards at his docks. The sketchiness of the situation caused him to move forward and meet with the rest of his troops.

“Sir,” one spoke up, voice low as he gestured towards an array of chests. “They haven’t been loaded.”

The red-clothed male stayed quiet for a moment, jaw clenched in concentration before he heard a snap in the distance behind them. Right as he was about to give out an immediate order to get the hell out of there, a sizzling commotion cracked through the air before the thud of a body dropped to the ground right next to him. He furrowed his brows, ducking behind the luggage they were planning on stealing. More of the same weapon was fired in his direction, piercing through the boxes which ended up being empty once he got to look in them through the holes created. Distracted with the infuriating reveal, an arrow sliced his bicep, making him hiss through gritted teeth at the burn.

His men scattered about, aiming their own weapons at the opposing force but it was hard to make out any silhouettes even due to the darkness. He didn’t want to admit but the enemies had an upper hand here, and he’s still brainstorming as to what course of action he should take. With an aggravated sigh, he poked his head above the stacked chests, catching sight of an arrow coming from straight ahead which he made sure to dodge, of course. Taking out his own crossbow and aiming it in that direction, firing after a moment, it took a second but a shrill scream was the result. Ah, like music to his ears.

Soldiers of his soon caught up, figures from buildings above and behind walls collapsing dead to the ground. But the warlord took notice of his own troops dropping like dead flies, their survival becoming desperate as most resorted to fleeing from the crossfire. He’d yell at them to not be such cowards yet he was beginning to consider doing the same. He was already one of the last couple left, knowing that if he called for backup they’d never arrive on time. Silently, he crept away from the battle, hiding behind any wall to stay clear of the enemies. It was embarrassing but he didn’t want to die—not like this.

As he snuck away, a figure followed after him. Rounding a corner, the individual latched onto him and held a cloth over his mouth and nose. He thrashed in the other’s hold, finally pushing him away after a few seconds and raising his leg to kick him to the ground. Though, as he lifted his ankle, he felt dizzy and tripped, colliding with the wall to his right and groaning. The stranger, which turned out to be a knight—an important one by the distinctly different colors he wore, watched him as he slid down the wall to the floor.

“Tch,” the knight spoke, chuckling in spite. “Not so tough now, huh.” He leaned down, grabbing a fistful of the weakened one’s hair before letting go of him abruptly which caused his head to hit the wall behind him harshly. “It’s over, Bang Chan.” The use of Chan’s full name only angered him further but his sudden fatigue made him get over it rather quickly. His tongue felt weighted, he couldn’t retort if he wanted to. “You know what to do.” The last statement was directed towards other knights who approached them.

Chan was already blacked out when they collected him, carrying him to a barred carriage. He expected to be killed off right then and there, executed in front of their own soldiers with his severed head being brought to the King. Though, all he knows and sees is darkness—nightmares fueling him for the first time in a while. He has been in captivity before but… Chan doesn’t think he’ll escape. Not when it’s the King who has caught him.

Redness clouded Chan’s vision before he opened his eyes, a bright light greeting him and immediately blinding him. For a moment, he thought he was in heaven, but a sudden pain shot up his arm, reminding him he was still, unfortunately, alive. He wouldn’t be in heaven, anyway. He belongs in hell, for all he knows. Once his eyesight became less blurry, he frowned at the window which the sunlight slipped through. He was in a cell. Shadows of bars in the window decorated his form, forcing him to register the fact that he is just a prisoner now.

Groaning, Chan tried lifting his arms but a chain stopped his movements with a harsh dig into his wrist from its cuffs. There was a weight hanging onto his face, and he inwardly cringed at the feeling of being muzzled. An exasperated smile turned the corners of his lips upward, wanting to laugh in spite of the King, and also of himself. He was immobilized, fucking tied to a chair. His ankles were stuck to the legs of the seat, and once he looked down to notice, he realized they had discarded his armor and only left him in his undergarments. Tilting his head to the side, a collar, which was also connected to the chains to the chair, restricted him. He didn’t have the sanity to feel humiliated yet, and before he could figure out anything else, a few pairs of footsteps echoed outside his cell.

He could hear a conversation being continued, muffled slightly due to their distance from him and because of how fuzzy his thoughts were. Whatever poison they gave him, which allowed them to bring him here, hasn’t completely gone away yet.

“Oh, he’s awake,” a voice piped up, sounding awfully excited upon the news he just stated. There was a brief pause, and then Chan knew they were right outside the door to his dungeon. “The prisoner is carefully restrained with silver chains but I suggest not entering his cell, Your Majesty.”

_Your Majesty_. Chan held back a snort, mentally rolling his eyes. Of course, he’s already being visited by the King. And silver chains, he said? Give Chan a few days and he’d break free—it would be easier if he had more freedom with his hands and feet. But he doubts they’d even give him a few hours. The King was probably going to speak to him out of mockery or to interrogate—question him of any plans he was going to make. It would be pointless. As if Chan would spill his secrets with or without death in his path.

The cell’s door creaked open after some clicking from being unlocked, the jingle of keys filling the silence afterwards. It hurt when Chan lifted his face up from where it was hanging relaxed, looking towards the noise. His expression remained stoic but his eyes held all the emotions he was feeling in that moment—mainly anger. Boring the hatred he had for the royal in his gaze, he glared at him with zero hesitance.

For a second, he was caught off-guard at how young he looked, furrowing his eyebrows. _When did Prince Jeongin take over?_ , was the question which immediately swarmed Chan’s head, and also how the boy’s people took him seriously despite his age. But Chan quickly recovered, madness bubbling up inside of him when the thought of being beaten by this kid finally registered.

The unnamed individual beside Jeongin stepped aside when the royal made a hand gesture, most likely ordering him to leave. He obliged, of course, exiting the room and shutting the door behind him. Now it was just the King and his prisoner left in the room, the privacy making Chan squirm in his chains agitatedly.

Taking a few steps forward, the boy dressed in regal clothes—with coal black lining defining his slender figure underneath the red robes—blocked the sunlight from Chan’s view, casting a shadow onto his body. Hands clasped behind his back and a blank expression plastered over his face, quietness increased the tension between them—tension you could slice with a knife, the same kind of knife Chan would use to slice the King’s throat if he had the chance.

“Not much of a talker, hm?” Jeongin finally spoke, tone aggravatingly calm—it made Chan want to murder him impossibly more. “Oh, right, you’re sort of… _muted_ , at the moment.” He added on, holding a fist to his lips as if to hold back a laugh. Though, he cleared his throat and smiled down at Chan, dimples adorning his cheeks.

Chan snarled at him, and the white-haired man frowned while wrinkling his face up in disgust. “Let’s try to be civil for a minute, at least,” his voice was more stern than before, a king’s voice. It was now Chan’s turn to wrinkle his face up in disgust.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Bang Chan. You haven’t known me, though,” he continued, pacing back and forth in front of the other. “But you’ve known my father. He hasn’t lived long enough to finally defeat you, but luckily for him, I’ve done it—much easier than I anticipated.” For talking about a sensitive topic such as his father’s death, Jeongin didn’t sound the tiniest bit affected. The subtle insult went over Chan’s head, but he quickly caught it after a moment, muttering a small “ _fuck you_ ” under his breath to which the male chuckled at.

“Ah, so it does speak.” He remarked, the pronoun he used to refer to Chan earning a growl on the other’s end. “Do me a favor, won’t you, _mutt_ , and address me as your king?” The royal spat, reaching over and grabbing a fistful of Chan’s hair to yank his head back, forcing him to actually look up at him. Despite it being a question, it came off as more of a statement—an order.

Chan bared his teeth from beneath the muzzle, trying to thrash himself out of the boy’s grasp but it only made his scalp ignite with more pain. “Never.” He rasped with a glower, eyes ablaze as he glared up at the other.

The retort only infuriated the young king more from the way he tugged on the captive’s scalp yet he remained emotionless in the face. There was a staring contest between them for a minute or so, waiting for the opposite to crack and submit—neither were doing so, Chan wasn’t planning on it ever. Not like he could physically call the boy a king when he can barely pronounce every syllable with his jaw being restrained.

“I don’t think anything can be more satisfying than this.” Chan furrowed his eyebrows at the sudden statement. “Not even your death.” Jeongin’s eyes seemed to squint as he eyed the defeated warlord.

“What?”

“You beneath me.”

An airy laugh left Chan, shaking his head—or trying to with the little freedom he has. “You think I’ve already given in?” He questioned through gritted teeth.

“Not yet.” A little hum in his tone; halcyon. “The process will be fun though.” Jeongin gleamed down at the other, letting go of his hair and straightening his suit.

_Process_? The warlord sputtered, breaking his once firm demeanor. The King doesn’t want to kill him? Chan doesn’t know if submitting to this young man would be better than death—it feels and sounds worse. Humiliating, it would be, to be reduced to such a pathetic rank. From a victorious leader to a man in a muzzle, the way he is now for the rest of his life. Exacerbated, the prisoner went amok in his restricting chair, cursing at the smiling boy before him.

“Such savages,” Jeongin began, his grin faltering as he watched Chan fight against his chains, “your kind. It’ll be like taming a lion.” He lifted the other’s chin up with his index and middle finger, causing Chan to still subconsciously.

A little hum, a dull one. “By sunrise, you won’t be _this_ anymore.” The older yanked his face away from the boy’s hand, confusion littering his expression. Before he knew it, fingers were pulling out the specs of gold in his scar, and he hissed in pain, trying to turn away but to no avail. Soon small amounts of blood trickled down the side of his profile, getting into his eye which he tried blinking away.

Jeongin inspected his nails which were brown and red from his little picking at the male’s scar, averting his gaze back to Chan amusedly. He now understood why the warlord used to wear so much red; it complimented him. A great contrast to his pale skin. The thought of overpowering the other was so tasteful, he couldn’t help but want to have it this way for eternity. Simultaneously, Jeongin knew Chan would rather die than serve someone else, and that’s exactly what kept him from executing the man. A message, this could be, to all enemies of his—that he should be taken seriously.

Leaning down, gripping the back of the chair Chan sat on, the King loomed over his prisoner with a sardonic look. Jeongin could see the shock in the other’s eyes, no matter how much he masked it with hatred. So satisfying, nothing could be this pleasing. Having _the_ Lord Bang in complete vulnerability to him, only to him, is a thought to entertain—a reality now. A shallow breath left him, almost like a chuckle. This will be the most fun he’s had in years.

“You’ll be my pet.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh hello thank you for reading SHDJDDJS
> 
> each chapter will gradually get longer, i just needed a prologue of some sort to get this thing on the road 
> 
> uh please leave kudos if you liked it [:


End file.
